Saviour
by HessianDamian
Summary: Wesker has lost everything...Death is the only thing he wants, but a certain someone won't let him give up on life so easily.


Hessian here again with a new story, same pairing as The Hunted, but it's a twist from the original.

S-a-S-a-S-a-S-a

The dark room resonated the hell that was brought to its occupants…Well, at least some of them. Albert Wesker would like to say that'd he'd faced death and all the consequences thereof, that he could be patient and know when to strike, that he could thrive where nothing was meant to flourish. He would like to think that he couldn't be broken or used. He was wrong…Oh, so very, very wrong.

Five men had already taken turns at him three times and had retreated to the corner of the room to play poker and recover. He, on the other hand, had been left to wallow in a vat of putrid slime, and pray for early death. But there was no such resolve in sight…Not as long as the fools kept pumping vitamins and necessary nutrients into him.

The room was at least forty feet wide and had a rather tall ceiling; barren except for the table in the right corner by the door, where hung a dusty lamp to illuminate the table where the soldiers played cards. _Humiliated, with nothing to lose anymore…Who am I now?_

Wesker's understanding of the word 'torture' and 'humiliation' had taken drastic terms when he was forced to be subservient to the men's whims and…**needs**. He was starting to wish he could just fade into the shadows and become one with the wall…He also started to wonder how many other wretched souls had thought the same thing while staring into nothingness.

Everything hurt. Wesker's whole body throbbed in unison with his bruised ribs and cracked nose, his cheekbones stained purple, and eyes shaded in black from lack of sleep. He groped weakly at his side, feeling the bones sticking out he wheezed and wondered how pitiful the noise sounded. His muscle had vanished, replaced by a malnutrition form, leaving him limp and virtually lifeless…

The door to the room suddenly slammed open, a tall, dark figure silhouetted in the sickeningly bright light that filtered through the door. He stood like a giant over the men who immediately huddled around him – perhaps trying to hide Wesker's disgraceful form from his sight. The sudden flourish of air was enough to make him cough, and try to roll over onto his side. He gasped at the pain that it caused, feeling ill when the figure moved out of the entrance to stand over him.

They were ghostly…

Two orbs of glowing azure settled on him and he shivered under the intensity with which they looked at him, wishing for death.

"What is **this**?" The voice that penetrated the gloom was a deep baritone of utter rage. The shadow's head snapped to look at the soldiers behind him, dark hair falling off his shoulders, and waving now over his chest. There were hushed answers, low and frightened…Who was this man? The glowing eyes returned to him and Wesker let out a silent growl.

No longer strong enough to even hold his head up, he let it crash down to the floor with a dull _thud_. He'd hoped for a concussion, something so that those eyes would be gone from his sight…But no such luck came to him.

The giant stooped, picking up the feeble blonde in a protective embrace, and growled so angrily that the men scattered from him. He walked out into the hallway, through a maze of glowing white walls and florescent lighting to…Somewhere. Wesker couldn't see clearly but a _clank_, and _clunk_ later and the lights had dimmed significantly.

One thing that Wesker inwardly appreciated – although would never voice – was that this figure was warm…Not overpowering or feverish warmth, a soft one. Another thing that the blonde would never admit to…he smelled nice. It was like some sort of spice, perhaps cinnamon? He unconsciously snuggled closer to the behemoth. _Damnit…I hate this…I'm so cold…and he's so warm. Just let me die you bastard…must I endure you now?_

"W…hat…?" Wesker grumbled, as he was lowered and tried to twist away, stopping to hiss in pain at the motion. He touched something soft and smooth with his back. A fabric he knew but thought he'd never touch again...silk, a silk comforter mixed with warm, soft cotton sheets.

"Stop moving," the voice chastised, as the man rose to grab a stainless steel briefcase from a dresser that hugged the wall. The man – a Native American by birth – was none other than Sensou Ookami; azure eyes running across the surface of the case, he nodded. He sat next to the blonde on the bed, opening the case next to him and drawing out a syringe.

Thinking better of it, he sat the case on the floor, and put the shot back in place before turning to the other man. He took Wesker's small wrist gently, stretching out his weak left arm to – Sensou was prepared for the struggling, grabbing the blonde and pulling him to his chest. Wesker flailed weakly, his body using what strength it had left…Coincidently, he fell limp after several moments.

His face was flushed, greasy hair a mess as it stuck to his scalp, and breathing labored and uneven. The blonde's breaths were enough to make someone cringe, if his appearance didn't already. Sensou sighed, stretching out Wesker's arm again and preparing it for the injection about to come. He took his time, holding the smaller as he slowly emptied the contents into his system.

_That should hydrate, nourish, and keep the sickness away…_ Sensou thought as he withdrew the needle and threw everything down into the case randomly. Wesker's form went slack in his arms and he was sure that the other had passed out, looking to his serene face as confirmation. He sighed, rising with the blonde in his arms, and snarled at the abuse his men had put the smaller man through.

His ribs were visible, limbs thin, and bruises littered his form. His azure eyes darted from mark to mark, cut to gash, and signs of tiredness. Bags under his eyes and thin, breakable fingers…Sensou's eyes closed tight. No one, not even the lowest traitor, should have to go through this sort of torture and humiliation.

His men, the ones **he'd** trained…used and abused this creature to the point where he couldn't even sit up in bed. A sigh filled the room for a moment, heavy and angry. The other's hair was so greasy that locks of it stuck together and peppered his skull, and grime from the floor…along with…other unsightly fluids coated his form, cracked and dried to his skin.

He knew from all the battles he'd partaken in from his lifetime, that nothing could break a man faster than knowing that there was no way out. A constant loop of hell was all that awaited most, ending in dismay and wonderment of how they'd sunk so fast. Taking away a man's pride would kill him faster than any knife or bullet wound. Sensou had once stripped a man of his soul, piece-by-piece…and such memories never brought him joy.

Sensou stepped lightly to the bathroom, hoping not to jostle the feeble man around and ruin his peaceful slumber. He laid him out on the counter, filling the bathtub with semi-hot water, and slowly lowered the other into it. He had to run more water some ten minutes later because of all the putrid things that clung to the blonde. Sensou washed every inch of him, between his fingers, the bottom of his feet, and his face.

Nothing was untouched by a heavy dousing of soap and water, his scalp scrubbed clean of oil and dandruff. Sensou rinsed him with the showerhead, lifting him out of the tub, before drying him off. He carried him back to the bed and dressed him in a pair of his black slacks…which were much too large. He made a mental note to search for clothes later.

Wesker's form was limp in slumber, a faint red touching his cheeks from a fever no doubt. Walking around the bed, he was quick to find the steel briefcase and pull out a vial of pills. Taking one and entering the kitchen he fixed a glass of water, dropping the dissolvable tablet inside. It was quick to disappear, the water itself tasting and looking no differently, hiding the fact that anything was inside. Sensou walked back into the room, and stood in the doorway for a moment, debating whether or not to wake the blonde…Yes, it would help with infection.

Sensou walked over, putting his arm behind the other's shoulders, and lifted him up. When the smaller still didn't wake, he resorted to shaking him a little. Crimson eyes snapped open, and a snarl rang out as Wesker tried to back away from him.

"Be still…drink." Sensou chastised, putting the glass to his lips. He shuddered against his arm, eyes dulling as he started gulping heavily. "Ah…slowly now…" The Indian warned, pulling away a little to stop him, before returning the precious liquid once more. Wesker huffed, but slowed down, eventually draining the whole cup.

Sensou lowered him back to the bed, making Wesker grumble at having been touched. "Sleep, I'll make you something to eat later." The blonde gave no response, just weakly curled up into the covers, and fell to sleep. The taller man left, standing in the living room for a moment, staring at nothing.

**4 days later…**

Wesker stared at the television, watching a report on his utopia. His city was still alive, thriving even in the throes of war it seemed, and his generals were fighting back tenaciously against Japan. His half lidded eyes told what he felt…nothing. He couldn't bring himself to care that the war was getting better on his end.

The last few days had been hell, being stuck with needles, and force-fed food. The Indian didn't seem ready to give up on him and as a result of his care, Wesker's ribs were no longer visible, he looked rested, and his limbs didn't look like twigs. The injections were no doubt the cause of his sudden, extreme bout of health.

Now, the behemoth was in the kitchen, fixing eggs that would no doubt be done in the next two minutes. Wesker grumbled. Sensou – as he'd suspected – entered, carrying a plate of eggs and toast, with a tall glass of orange juice he'd squeezed himself.

The Indian turned off the TV before looking at him. "I don't mind you watching, as long as you eat." Wesker threw the food a disgusted look, leaning against the headboard of the bed. Sensou sighed, scooping some egg into his mouth, and chewing it as he grabbed Wesker by his bicep. The blonde had no time to retaliate before he shoved their mouths together.

A vicious bite was administered to the Indian's top lip as he shoved the food into Wesker's mouth, before pulling away and clapping a hand over his mouth to stop him from spitting it out. He plugged his nose, causing Wesker to reflexively swallow the contents. He grunted in annoyance, glaring at Sensou as he retracted his hand, the blood of his top lip dribbling down to the crease of his lips.

"Eat or I keep doing that."

Wesker glared as he began eating, slowly. Sensou waited for a moment before heading to the bathroom to repair his lip. The food was good. There was no point in denying it, the eggs salted nicely and the toast buttered correctly…Damn. The orange juice was downed quickly as well. When he was full he sighed, eyeing the last bit of egg on his plate and wondering if the other was going to…_Bastard. That was disgusting…He tasted…Damnit._ He changed his mind, returning his attention the TV, because the more he thought about it…the more repulsed he would get with himself.

Sensou came back, picking up the plate, and returned it to the kitchen. Wesker heard the water running as the other cleaned up the mess. He frowned, turning up the volume on the TV, catching the thud of Sensou's boots on the floor as he re-entered the room.

_Now what...?_ Wesker thought solemnly, his eyes instantly finding the syringe in Sen's hand. He sat down on the edge of the bed, near the blonde.

"You need rest…"

"Mhm…" Wesker muttered, warily eyeing the shot in Sensou's hand. The Indian took his wrist gently, stretching it out. Albert jerked his arm away, snarling quietly at the other's touch, and was about to back away if he hadn't been grabbed. Sensou held him steadfast as flailed, arms deadlocked around his waist. _Why…why won't you just let me die!? You bastard!_

"Stop."

"No." Wesker hissed as he struggled, scratching anywhere he could with his talons. Sensou let him fight, never once lightening his hold on Albert's mid-section. Eventually, he settled down, leaning on Sensou as the exertion of fighting took its toll. The Indian stretched out his limb once more, administering the nutrients as if he had all the time in the world. His right cheek had three deep red grooves in it, and so did his right arm.

"You're getting stronger." He commented calmly, finally releasing the blonde and letting him move to lie down, huffing. Sensou stood, throwing the comforter of the other before walking for the bathroom. Standing in the darkened doorway he removed his shirt and Wesker paused…staring at the back of his torso. It was littered with scars, ranging from slash marks, to bullet wounds, and burns of every kind…fire, electrical, and acidic…

One of his eyebrows rose out of habit, wondering what…No. He frowned, suddenly wishing that one of those many marks had killed the Indian. He stopped the train of thought completely, turning over to lie on his other side and stare at the wall. Sensou walked into the bathroom, emerging with bandages and in a new shirt. "I'll be back in a few hours; there are sandwiches and milk in the kitchen."

Wesker waved him off, settling in to sleep.

**3 hours later…**

The door opened with a _clank_, closing with a _clunk_ as Sensou returned, looking to see if anything was out of the ordinary. A glass was shattered in the kitchen, water around the broken pieces, and Wesker sat in his bed…watching TV. The Indian swept up the mess, checking on Wesker right after.

Albert didn't even glance at him, just kept watching the TV as he walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed near him. He gently parted the covers, trying to see if the other had sustained any injury from the broken glass. "Do you wish to bathe?" Wesker jerked the covers back into place, irritated. Sensou withdrew, standing suddenly, and asked again: "Do you wish to bathe?"

"Not now, later…" Wesker grumbled with a sigh.

"Fine…" Sensou left, going to sit at the kitchen table, and eventually, a dull _thud_ rang out as his head slammed down on the surface. Wesker leaned to the side a little, viewing the other from the bedroom, and raised an eyebrow, blinking. There was no response from the Indian and all he could see was the rise and fall of his back, his arms circling his head on the table.

Wesker slowly stood and entered the kitchen, wanting another drink, and as he returned to the bedroom, he casually threw the blanket over Sensou's shoulders…

**2 hours later…**

Sensou slowly rose, his face shrouded by his hair as his head came off the table, and he felt the sheet gradually slide off his form and onto the floor. He glanced over his shoulder, staring at the cloth for a long moment, before rising and gathering it up. He threw it down a small chute before searching for the blonde that occupied his apartment.

He heard the quiet patter of feet before he actually saw Albert pacing the bedroom. "You should not wear yourself out…" His voice was low as he leaned on the doorway, hands instinctively finding his pockets.

"Hmph." Wesker stopped to look at him, but quickly returned to his walking. Sensou watched him, eyes following the tracks he made. _Like a caged animal…_ His eyes narrowed and he stood slowly, moving forward to scoop up the blonde.

"You may think while lying down…"

Wesker didn't resist this time, instead, he curled up into Sensou's warmth, eyes narrowed. Despite not being visible, the Indian was rather shocked by the strange change in the other's habit, making a note to keep a closer eye on him. He held him for a minute, just watching him, before striding over to the bed and laying him down.

"Rest." Wesker nodded, snuggling up in the warm covers as Sensou pulled away. The Indian stared for just a few moments longer…Walking out to grab his jacket and make his way to the war room.

**The Next Day…**

"This is General Ciel's companion, he can keep you company…" Sensou nodded to the young man with dark brown hair and bright green eyes. He was wearing his black war suit, hat and all, the brim coming out to shield one of his eyes from sight, and commendations of silver littered the left side of his chest as he stepped out. Wesker could at least tell that he was high ranking now... "His name is Nathan," Sensou continued, oblivious to the looks the boy was giving him.

The blonde's eyebrow twitched at the sight, he was virtually drooling…Did he not realize how embarrassing he looked? Obviously not… Wesker tried his best to ignore him, but he couldn't stop himself from casting the occasional glare at him. Normally – especially after working with Excella – he'd learned to dismiss such things…and yet, this was bothering the hell out of him.

Sensou left without a further word, slipping out the door and into the hallway beyond. Wesker watched him go before turning his attention to the brunette. He reminded him so much of Chris he wanted to kill him…if not just for his performance a moment ago.

"So…you are?" Nathan asked, somewhat nervously, green eyes focusing on red.

"James…"

"Ah...! Uh…so…how is he? You look well taken care of…" Nathan walked around him, looking him up and down.

"He's fine." Wesker stepped out of the circle the other had put him into, "Do you mind?"

"Oh, of course!" The young man held up his hands, obviously meaning no offense. His eyes grew wide and he started looking around, "You've got it **good**! Look at this place…"

Wesker crossed his arms, gazing at the other boredly as he started walking around and making the most ridiculous faces. "Commander-in-Chief, eh? He looks **really** good…" Nathan stepped into the kitchen to raid the fridge. Wesker's eye twitched as he followed the other, sitting at the bar, watching the brunette as he fished around. He withdrew a bacon sandwich, fixing himself a glass of milk as well. Nathan sat the plate and glass down on the counter so that he was across from Wesker.

"So…how nice is the Commander?" Nathan gazed at him curiously and the blonde's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Who?"

"Your master…the Commander of the Japanese army…" Both of Nathan's brows rose. "You didn't know?" Wesker kept his calm, fingers knitting together, and elbows on the counter as he stared at the other. His heart hammered in his chest, irises narrowing on the other. _All this time…I've been near him…_ His mortal enemy in this war, this struggle for supremacy…was his savior. The irony was not lost on him.

"…Why are you here, exactly?" Wesker frowned.

"He wanted you to have someone to talk to." Nathan shrugged innocently.

"I don't need **anyone** to talk to." The blonde growled, frowning deeply at the thought of having to put up with this boy for a long duration.

"You have no plan for escape…do you?" He suddenly appeared serious, eyes half lidded, and expression fading. The change in his demeanor made Wesker's brow rise slowly. "You've no idea…" The blonde gave a 'tch' and leaned back in his chair to cross his arms, eyes narrowed.

Nathan laughed, "Nice pout – keep doing that. Being cute will make him more loving."

"What the hell are you talking about, fool?" Wesker growled…this boy was really starting to irritate him.

"If you're good, you can get anything. Let's put it this way, even if you did somehow knock the Commander out, you'd have thousands of soldiers ready to end you. They really like him around here." Nathan sighed, shrugging slightly, and knitted his fingers together to rest his chin on top of them.

"Continue…" Wesker sighed slightly.

"And," he dragged the word out on his tongue, "the escape pods – which are the only way out – are on the other side of a ten mile long and fifteen mile deep maze of a base."

"Mmm…you've certainly thought this through, haven't you?" Wesker stood, moving to the fridge, and grabbing a sandwich.

"Well, I was like you at one time…Pacing, thinking, and trying to escape. But the only way out is in the hands of your master…" Nathan stated, moving so that the other could open the door. Wesker slowly closed the door, taking a small bite, watching the younger man with curiosity. _How does he know all this? No…He is the slave of a general. Then again, I'm the __**slave**__ of the Commander and I don't know half of what he does. I need to know his approach…How he gets this information._

"If you get him to fall in love you…he'll let you go. A lot of captains do it when they figure out they're starting to care about their slaves."

"…Keep talking."

"If he cares about you, he won't kill you or throw you back. If he loves you…he'll set you free. It lets them make up a fantasy of you escaping back to the utopia in Europe or Moscow." Nathan jumped up to sit on the counter, kicking his feet.

"…" Wesker turned away, thoughtful.

"All **you** have to do is not get attached…" The brunette finished, making Albert snicker.

"Yes, I'm **really** worried about that."

Nathan sighed, "You never know…" He raised a brow at the blonde. "Do you know how to seduce?"

Wesker sighed in turn, "I'm sure I can manage..."

**Four hours later…**

Sensou entered, slamming the door, and immediately shed his uniform coat to throw it down on the floor. Wesker watched him over his shoulder, staring at the discarded jacket. _He…throws it down every time._ He could only guess the meaning to such a daily ritual, smirking at the implication as he turned his gaze to the other, discarding his expression quickly.

The Indian barely glanced at him as he entered the kitchen area, grabbing some things from the fridge to prepare for dinner. Wesker started to formulate a plan as he watched the other, his eyes darting to the knife Sensou handled with surprising dexterity. It became obvious that this man was Commander for a reason…the scars, his knife play in the **kitchen**. Even in top form – if his reflexes here were any indication – he'd have trouble defeating him. Hit and run was suddenly no longer an option…

Wesker stood; making his way into the bedroom to sit on the coach in front of the TV…he needed a place. A plan had formulated – a shady one, but hopefully it would give him a foothold to work off of. _Damn…hurry up… _Wesker wasn't one to get cold feet; that would be a weakness. But this was something he wasn't used to, and he started to wonder how Ada did it…

Sensou eventually appeared, carrying a tray with a small bowl on it, and a glass of what Wesker could assume – from the suds – was some kind of coke-like beverage. Blinking, the blonde reached for the glass and eyed the food suspiciously. "Sushi?"

"Yes…" was the reply, rumbled in that deep baritone.

"…When did you learn to make such a thing?" Wesker asked, sipping the drink. It was Sprite…not too bad he supposed, considering the meal.

"The other officers thought me odd for not being able to make raw fish." Sensou sat down then, leaving a cushion between them.

_You bastard…_

Wesker moved closer, using the food between them as an excuse, raising a brow. "**Raw** fish…" He played ignorant, any fool knew what sushi was, but, unfortunately, the other didn't take the bait. Instead, he simply nodded and gazed at the chopsticks that were for Wesker.

The blonde followed his gaze, "…You expect me to use those?"

"You may use whatever you like."

Wesker blushed slightly in embarrassment, forcing himself to look…cute. He glanced at Sensou who ate one of the pieces on the tray easily enough. "Teach me?" He stared at Wesker for a moment, before taking his smaller hand in his, showing him how to use the sticks. His face was stoic and impassive to the situation, the warmth of his hand throwing Wesker off-guard. Albert felt awkward and diminutive as that hand encompassed his fully…

Several moments later though, he was eating sushi with chopsticks…He feigned a yawn, leaning closer to the Indian. Sensou ate slowly, finishing before Wesker did, and the blonde noticed that he was eating less than he did…Dark hair suddenly fell free of its usual braid, falling onto Wesker's shoulder and coating the muscle there in a thick lair of black.

Azure eyes watched the TV without the slightest hint of interest, leaving Wesker to finish his meal. The blonde waited a few moments after he was done eating, eyes darting to the side to watch the dark haired man. _Damn…he's just sitting there…doing nothing._

He turned, slowly pressing his face into Sensou's chest, and curling his hand into the front of the Indian's shirt on his chest. Wesker nuzzled him, much to the other's shock, and he blinked in confusion down at the blonde. Slowly, his arm rose and tentatively wrapped around Wesker's shoulders.

"Warm…" Wesker mumbled, cuddling him. Sensou watched with an impassive face, azure eyes focusing on his face.

Albert yawned, a genuine one this time, and sighed before closing his eyes and going to sleep. Sensou sat there for a moment, watching him sleep before he rose to transport the blonde to bed. Once he had him tucked under the covers, he went to stroke his cheek, virtually touching him before he stopped, and withdrew. He walked out of the room, hands in his pockets, and stared at his military jacket…resting on the floor.


End file.
